‘Oh, congrats,’ said the moral policeman, clearly bewildered. ‘I didn’t know you’d changed jobs. Are you with Good News or Straight Shooting?’
The rapist slapped his forehead in frustration and said, ‘I haven’t changed jobs. Don’t you watch TV at all?’
The moral policeman shrugged and said, ‘It’s been a busy week.’
‘Okay,’ said the rapist, eating his samosa fast. He had hoped to brainstorm ideas for the show with the moral policeman, but the latter was proving to be duller than a dupatta regulator today and he didn’t want to waste any more time on him. He had a rehearsal scheduled for the evening and he was yet to read through the applications that had come in for the day. The rapist hated keeping backlogs and prided himself on never skipping a deadline.
‘Tell me,’ said the moral policeman, leaning back in his chair.
The rapist summarized the situation as quickly as he could and signalled for the bill.
‘You are going to do it on the show?’ asked the moral policeman disbelievingly.
The rapist smiled diffidently and nodded.
‘But that’s – that’s wrong!’ spluttered the moral policeman.
The rapist frowned. The waiter was engaged in a lengthy conversation with another waiter (about why he felt Pluto should be a planet) and was not to be distracted. ‘What do you mean?’ he asked the moral policeman casually. As if the latter’s opinions did not matter to him at all.
‘You can’t do that to a person on TV!’ said the moral policeman, forgetting himself.
‘Do you remember where you work? I’m telling you, she’s the same woman who broke the notifier!’ said the rapist. ‘What’s up with you anyway?’ He looked at the moral policeman’s sweat-drenched face. ‘Are you feeling all right?’
The moral policeman eyed the rapist uncomfortably, debating whether he should tell him about his son. And then, deciding that he couldn’t trust him after all, he simply said, ‘Of course I’m okay. I just think it’s not right to rape someone on TV.’
The waiter had thankfully seen his wild gesturing by then and brought the bill to him. The rapist put down the money for the samosas, tipped the waiter begrudgingly and said, ‘I’ll be off then!’
He left the moral policeman sitting in the canteen with his head in his hands.
‘He’s just jealous,’ the rapist said to himself as he took the elevator up to his office. The harsh tube light in the lift threw him off and he avoided looking at the mirror that watched him sternly.
Twenty-four
The girl fixed an appointment for the second daughter to meet the media mogul two days after she’d run her through the show. ‘Best of luck,’ she told the second daughter over the phone. ‘She’s sort of scary, but if you don’t talk much, she’ll be nice.’ The second daughter thanked her for the advice. She did not believe in talking unnecessarily either. The day after Good News had invited her to be on the show, the second daughter had received a call from Straight Shooting. From the priest himself. He had offered her a whopping sum to cancel her contract with Good News and appear on his channel instead. The second daughter refused him politely, but the priest wouldn’t give up. This morning, just as she was getting ready to keep her appointment with the media mogul, she received another call from him. He pretended not to have had the previous conversation and made her a fresh offer, doubling the first one. The second daughter hung up without bothering to argue with him.
Now, as she sat before the media mogul, after receiving a quick touch-up from the girl who had met her at the reception, the second daughter found her mind wandering. She wondered if this was a coping mechanism that had kicked in. She was unable to give the meeting the seriousness that it demanded. The media mogul, who the girl had promised was an absolute terror, did not seem so frightening after all.
The media mogul eyed the second daughter appraisingly. She was not ugly, but it was a good thing she’d be wearing a mask or they’d have had to give her an expensive makeover to make her look sufficiently glamorous. The missing tooth, especially, was a downer. The media mogul planned on leaking a few behind-the-scenes uncensored videos on the Internet to garner publicity for the show and the second daughter was sufficiently pretty for those if she kept her mouth closed. Thankfully, the rules did not prohibit displaying the rapist’s face. He was very cooperative and the media mogul was quite pleased with the videos of the rehearsals that she had seen. They were using a dummy for him to work on, but she could visualize the show perfectly well. The heroine had already finished shooting her bits for the episodes and was away in Switzerland shooting for her next movie.
In some ways, the second daughter reminded the media mogul of a younger version of herself. She even had her habit of scratching her nose when in deep thought. The media mogul had sat through several hours of etiquette training to rid herself of such mannerisms. As the wife of a CEO, she’d had to throw several dinner parties and it would never do for the hostess to be caught scratching her nose or doing something equally reprehensible.
‘I hope you’ve been taken care of well so far?’ she asked the second daughter.
‘Oh yes,’ the second daughter replied. ‘Your staff has been most helpful. They’ve run me through the whole production and I’m clear about my role.’
The media mogul allowed herself a smile. ‘I’m glad to hear that,’ she said. ‘So as you know, the episode you will be featuring in is scheduled for next Sunday. At seven p.m. It’s a primetime slot. As per regulations, you will be asked to report to the studio a day earlier. On Saturday. In case you get cold feet and leave us hanging in the air.’
The second daughter smiled. ‘The thought has occurred to me,’ she said. ‘But don’t worry, I plan to go through with this. I’ve come too far to back out now.’
‘Great,’ said the media mogul. ‘So after the show, you will probably kill yourself. Do you mind doing that on TV as well?’
Seeing the second daughter’s shocked expression, the media mogul softened her voice and said, ‘I know suicide is pretty personal, but think about it. You will be dead anyway. The money could help your family.’
‘I am not planning to kill myself,’ said the second daughter quietly.
It was the media mogul’s turn to look shocked. ‘Then?’ she asked the second daughter. ‘What do you plan to do? Rape victims should kill themselves if their families come to know about it. I think there’s even a law to that effect.’
The second daughter’s eyes widened. ‘There is no such law,’ she said. ‘It’s a guideline. It isn’t a law yet. It’s in the Conduct Book. I’ve read it.’
‘I’ve read it too,’ lied the media mogul quickly. In truth, she had no idea where her book was but it was compulsory for all citizens to read it every day and she was not about to confess that she couldn’t remember the last time she had done so.
‘Look,’ said the media mogul. ‘Be reasonable. Everyone’s going to know that you were raped. Even though you’ll be on the show with a mask, people will come to know. Imagine the stigma. Your family members will never be able to hold their heads up. At least if you kill yourself, your family’s honour will be preserved. Your husband is a dentist. Can you imagine him working in his clinic and facing his patients with a soiled wife at home?’
‘I am not going to kill myself,’ the second daughter repeated slowly and emphatically. ‘I am afraid of being raped, yes, but I am not going to kill myself.’
The media mogul breathed in and out deeply. This was a difficulty she had not foreseen. In fact, she had already appointed executives for Suicide Point, the late-night show that was to follow The Lesson after the grand finale.
‘Do you know whose idea this show was?’ said the media mogul, deciding to play her last card.
‘The president’s,’ said the second daughter simply. Nobody had told her so, but she had guessed the truth a long time ago. It had all begun with that memo from the notifier and it didn’t take her much time to put two and two together.
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br /> ‘Yes,’ said the media mogul. ‘And I don’t think he’s going to be very pleased by your attitude.’
‘That isn’t my problem,’ said the second daughter. ‘I applied for a divorce and it isn’t illegal to do so. The rape is supposed to be my punishment for breaking the rules of the Conduct Book and attempting to mislead the state by lying about my pregnancy. I’m submitting to it. But suicide is a guideline and I’m not obliged to follow it.’
The media mogul said nothing for a long time. Then, turning to look at the Golden Geese that were strangely silent in their cage, she said, ‘Did the priest buy you for the suicide show? I know you’ve been talking to him.’
‘No,’ said the second daughter. ‘And I’m not planning to either.’
‘So that’s that,’ said the media mogul.
‘That’s that.’
‘All right then,’ said the media mogul. ‘Have it your way. I must warn you that life will become unbearable for you after the rape, and suicide will seem like a very appealing option. If you change your mind, give me a call.’
The second daughter took the card that the media mogul held out to her and tucked it into her purse.
‘The show starts this Monday and I’ll see you next Saturday as agreed,’ said the media mogul, getting up to show her out. Her paunch knocked down the flower vase that had been precariously perched on the table and she cursed. ‘I hate these dratted things. I don’t know why they keep putting flowers on my table,’ she fretted, looking at the small pool of water that drenched the carpet.
The second daughter smiled and walked out of the room.
Twenty-five
Several things happened since the second daughter’s appointment with the media mogul.
On Monday, the day the show premiered on television, the moral policeman’s son was captured and brought to the building from the airport. His parents never saw him again. The chief of the Moral Police Force, who had accepted the moral policeman’s resignation, sent him a note along with a single, long-stemmed white rose, thanking him for his services and wishing his family well. The force wanted to gift him a clock, said the chief in his note. Would the moral policeman drop in at some point and collect it?
On Tuesday, the day of the World Cup semifinal, the dupatta regulator managed to get the jacket recommendation passed. As a result, he spent a very busy week assessing students and classifying who was to wear the jacket compulsorily and who could get by with a dupatta. He devised a rigorous exercise routine for the girls and observed them as they practised. To avoid personal bias, he set up a committee of boys from the student body so they could take a decision with consensus. The dupatta regulator did not have a PhD, it was true, but he was proud of the scientific way in which he’d approached the problem. He submitted a report to the committee and went home with another pounding headache.
On Wednesday, the first daughter, who had been informed of the show by her parents who couldn’t bear to keep the awful news to themselves, cut all ties with them and disconnected her television, much to the indignation of her children who’d been following the World Cup closely.
On Thursday, the eunuch jumped off the hill behind his house and died. He did not leave a note but his mother said it had to do with his bike developing sudden engine trouble. It just wouldn’t start and, frustrated by his attempts to make it do so, the eunuch had walked up the hill, sweating, panting, and taken the leap.
On Friday, when nobody turned up to be part of the audience for the shoot of Medical Miracles because they didn’t want to miss watching The Lesson, the priest descended into deep depression. The Golden Geese received imported birdseed as a treat from the media mogul who was feeling generous towards the world at large.
On Saturday, the second daughter spent the night before the finale at the studio as agreed. She dreamt that she had given birth to a girl. A little imp of a girl.
In her dream, the second daughter was reading the newspaper. It was then that she saw the announcement. She knew right away that she had to take her daughter, the imp, to the zoo.
‘But I have a test in school!’ said the imp, sure that her mother had forgotten about it.
‘I know,’ said her mother. ‘But we have to go to the zoo today!’
‘The zoo?’ said the imp, wrinkling her nose. She was eight years old, not two! She was no longer excited about going to the zoo. ‘I’d rather go to school,’ she said, yawning, pretending that a pinprick of joy was not travelling down her spine right then.
‘Look, it’s a zoo only for women!’ said the second daughter, showing her the newspaper. ‘Only women are allowed!’
‘Weird,’ drawled the imp. She was practising drawling these days. Her best friend had told her that if she imagined a wad of chewing gum in her mouth every time she spoke, she’d master the technique.
In her sleep, the second daughter smiled. Years ago, as a schoolgirl, she had practised the art of chewing gum secretly in the bathroom, not replying to her mother who was standing on the other side of the door, demanding to know why in the world she was taking so long inside when the school bus was at the gate already, honking.
‘Get ready!’ said the second daughter, grabbing her handbag. ‘We’re leaving in fifteen minutes!’
Soon, the second daughter and the imp were on their way to the zoo in a jerky auto-rickshaw.
The zoo was a riot of colours. There were women everywhere! Reds and browns and yellows and blues. And even a grandmother dressed in shocking pink. There were women with short hair and women with long hair. There were women who wore sunglasses and women who wore strange hats. There were beautiful women and there were ugly women. There were women with skin like butter and there were women with skin like tree bark. But they were all women. And they were going to the women’s-only zoo.
The zoo authority, the only man in the vicinity, was standing on a makeshift stage near the ticketing booth. He looked a little like the president and a little like her father, the second daughter thought.
‘Queue up here, ladies!’ he shouted into the microphone. This was greeted by a wave of giggles. The ladies didn’t know why they were laughing but it just seemed funny. Everything seemed funny. For instance, this man, with his plastered-down hair and gold-rimmed glasses. They were not laughing at him, but they were all just so happy, they had to laugh.
To be fair, the zoo authority was not displeased by this laughter. ‘That’s the spirit, ladies!’ he yelled, throwing up his hands in the air. ‘Ten rupees for adults, five rupees for children!’
The women rushed to form a queue. A woman in very high heels was surprisingly the first. Girls stumbled and tumbled as they ran to find their place in the queue snaking down the road. Old women moved slowly under their umbrellas.
The second daughter and the imp were part of the queue as well. Now, the imp was too bored of acting bored. She was red with excitement. ‘This is awesome,’ she told her mother, clutching her hand. ‘Awesome!’
The queue was moving slowly but the zoo authority was keeping the mood up by shouting slogans and making witty comments from the stage. Occasionally, he took a sip from a bottle of Pepsi that was placed on the podium.
The second daughter licked her lips. Pepsi, so cold, so fizzy, so stylish. After every games class, the second daughter and her friends would drink a bottle at the school canteen. The boys, still playing football after the bell, would watch them but pretend not to.
The women who had been given tickets were asked to stand under a rainbow-coloured shamiana that had been raised that very morning under the expert supervision of the zoo authority. At last, when all the women, when every single one of them, had been given a ticket, the zoo authority wiped his face with his plain white handkerchief and heaved a sigh of relief.
‘Bring the bus!’ he shouted into the microphone. He drained the bottle of Pepsi in one gulp.
When the women saw the bus, they screamed in joy. It was the biggest bus they had ever seen in their lives. Even the very rich woma
n who had been to fifteen countries and owned seven poodles hadn’t seen anything like this in her life. Wild cats were painted on the sides of the bus. Tigers and panthers and leopards and lions.
‘The eyes look so alive!’ whispered the imp to her mother.
‘They are made of marbles,’ said the second daughter. She suddenly felt a little afraid. These cats looked too alive.
The zoo authority was asking the women to get into the bus. They shoved and pushed and jostled and giggled. At last, everyone was on board. The ones who didn’t get window seats looked marginally put off. But nobody was able to keep the smile off their faces.
There was no driver. But the bus began to move anyway. It was automatic! Would wonders never cease?
As the bus lumbered past the mighty gateways, the women craned their necks to look outside. The first cage was empty. Was the zoo not ready yet?
The second cage, too, was empty.
And so was the third.
Where were the animals? The women began to grumble. The imp began to look bored again.
‘Some place this is,’ she drawled to her mother. The second daughter was quiet. When the imp stared at her, she noticed that her face was pale.
Just then, there was a crackling noise and the zoo authority’s voice filled the bus.
‘When you reach the tenth cage. The bus will stop. Please disembark.’
The women waited to hear more but that was it. The crackle died down and a sinister silence took its place.
When the bus stopped near the tenth cage, nobody wanted to be the first to get down. The second daughter clenched her teeth and stood up. She walked to the door steadily and opened it. Then, motioning for her daughter to follow her, she stepped down.
In her sleep, the second daughter went rigid. She always was the leader in the group. Even that one time when they had jumped the school walls to watch a movie, she had been the first to go up the ladder and take that leap, even as her friends stood below, still uncertain, still deciding.
The Lesson Page 10